Trigger Warning

Four

Silence. That’s what Jerick heard as he crept up the stairs of his Aunt’s house. It was the type of silence that wasn’t comfortable or calming, but writhing and screaming. He shuddered, suddenly wishing he had Jaymee’s stoic heart.

He felt like this house was screaming, crying out for its blood to return. The grey stairwell was eerily silent, his feet not making as sound as he made his way up. The halls seemed darker without the laughing figure of Jerick’s aunt standing in the doorway.

The shadows were harsh, casted in grotesque figures across the floor. He frowned, pale, hazel eyes darting around soberly, trying to find some kind of familiarity in this crushing home.

Pictures framed the walls, but even the smiling and laughing faces took a dark expression in the house. Four figures stood in one. They were happy, grinning like someone had just told a funny joke.  All of them had the same features. Dark, wild curls contrasted against pale skin. His aunt was holding the hand of the person next to her and smiling. Jerick wondered when he would see his aunt smile again.

Lightly, he knocked on the smooth, black wooden door. A few seconds later, the chrome handle turned and a woman’s tall figure stood in the doorway. Despite the obnoxious smile lines that creased her face, she stood there frowning.

“Aunt Jia,” he breathed. “Still no word.”

She tilted her head quizzically at him, her expression turning to stone. The woman who used to joke with him was long gone as she demanded, “What do you want then?”

Jerick held himself back from his original answer. The woman needed time to grieve. He said, “I’m going to go to plan B.”

Her jaw tightened. Aunt Jia’s eyes read uncertainty. Her every thought was displayed on her face in a kaleidoscope of emotion. She had never been a good actor, but she wished she was then. Jia wished she could tell Jerick a lie. That his crazy plan would work.

But it wouldn’t. Of that, she was sure.

“Don’t get your hopes up, kid.” Was what she responded, though, silently kicking herself for not lying. He was working so hard to fix this. He deserved more encouragement than doubt.

“She’ll come.” He promised, raking his fingers through his dark brown hair. It should have been black, but his mother was blonde and that lightened the color. “We need her, Aunt Jia. We didn’t need her then, but now we need her.”

The woman shook her head. “That girl has no sense of responsibility and you know it.” Her voice was icy, cutting through the pale silence of the house like a knife.

“She may not,” Jerick said to her, glancing around at the red of her unkempt room, “But we don’t need her. We need Amara. And Amara believes in finishing what she started.”

Jia looked at him dejectedly, hands hanging listlessly at her sides. Her clothes were rumpled from sleeping in them the last two nights. Somewhere deep inside her, Aunt Jia applauded Jerick’s insistence to help her, but at that moment, she buried it. Her grief washed away her sympathies.

“Amara died the day my daughter walked out the door.” She snapped, “She won’t help us, Jerick. Just… Just go home.”

He stared at her evenly. “Go ahead. Give up. But I’m not going to.”

With that, he spun on his heel and left his Aunt to stare at the ceiling, wondering when this hell would end.

 

Jayden’s sight came in flashes of colors and blurs of motion. A mess of black there, a streak of yellow there. Screaming filled her ears. Not just any kind of screaming, but pleading, begging. Desperation carried in the voice.